


and i thank you

by newsiees



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Mentions of homophobia, mentions of abuse, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 01:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10294157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsiees/pseuds/newsiees
Summary: To Spot, safety is Race.





	

**Author's Note:**

> response to the ask: "'hey sorry but i kinda ran away from home so let me stay over tonight' sprace" on my tumblr, newsiees.

“Spot.” 

“Hey, Race, long story. Can I sleep here tonight?” Spot was standing in the doorway, eyes too busy thinking to properly meet Race’s. His face was blotched with wet streaks and Race noticed his blood was beginning to push against the skin near his eyes, swollen from tears. Hopefully. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You know you’re welcome anytime,” Race’s words left his mouth without any thought. Spot needed him. 

“I know.” He smiled a little, Race thought he saw, as Spot toed off his sneakers and began his walk up the stairs to Race’s bedroom, asking softly over his shoulder, “You coming?”

Race followed his boyfriend, running his hand down his face with a deep breath. They walked silently, well-versed in the art of traveling to Race’s room without waking up his family.

Shaking breaths clouded the bedroom as Spot gave Race a smile that told him not to ask about the blood. He climbed into Race’s bed, curling in the middle and giving one long breath out. 

Race followed him in, curling around his shivering body. 

“Spot, I’m going to ask.”

“Don’t.”

“Spot.” 

Silence. Always a tough guy.

“Spot, what can I do for you?”

“You’re doing it.”

“Great. So you can tell me what’s going on.” 

Spot sat up and glared at Race.

“Spot, I see you every day.”

“Lucky you.” 

“Yes, lucky me. I’m very thankful.” Spot rolled his eyes, but flopped back down and snuggled into the nook under Race’s arm. 

“Anyways. The bruises. What’s been happening?”

Mumbled sass echoed from inside of Race’s armpit: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Your skin is always black and blue, babe.” 

Silence. But Race persisted. 

“It's okay. You don’t have to tell me now. But I care about you and I’m here for you. And I need to know that I’m not risking an early death by my parents for no reason if they found you sleeping in my bed.” 

“My charming personality and hot body not reason enough?”

“Ha-ha. Obviously it’s your impeccable humor that gets me,” Race joked, smiling broadly into Spot’s hair. 

Spot didn’t respond right away, instead taking a deep breath, steady this time. 

“I ran away from home.” 

“Forever?”

“This time, yeah.” He was quiet and small, yet could feel so very heard and impressive in Race’s encouragement. “I’m not going to let it all happen again.” 

“That’s good. You don’t deserve it.” Race didn’t know what ‘it’ was. Not exactly.

“I know. You taught me that.” No lifted head, no eye contact. Confessions were usually made into bedsheets and warm skin.

“Was it worse tonight?”

“No, but this time...I wanted to get out. I didn’t want to just crumble into a hole forever this time. I had places to go.” 

“Places to go?”

“Here, I guess.” Race beamed and began to trace the familiar lines of Spot’s hair, weaving and twirling and there. 

“So you left?”

“Ran right out. I thought he would follow me. Or she would beg for me to stay. I might have if she did.”

“You did what you had to do. You’re barely seventeen. She’s already made her choices.” 

“Maybe.” 

He had said all he needed to, pulling his shoulders to his ears and unraveling his arms from under him so that he could instead wrap them around Race’s torso. 

“Can I stay here?”

Race smiled inside his lips as Spot asked please with a kiss to his ribs. 

“Of course you can. Just come by tomorrow morning and ask my parents.” 

Spot laughed, faintly but real. 

“They love me.” 

“You’re my best friend, why wouldn’t they?”

Race could feel Spot smiling slightly against him, twitching at intermittent bits of pain in his face. 

“Because I’m in their half-naked son’s bed.”

Race turned onto his back, letting Spot reposition with his head on Race’s chest as Race stretched his arms up over his head. He smiled despite Spot’s truth. It had come out of Spot’s mouth.

“Good point.” 

“You know me,” Spot retorted sleepily. 

“Thank God.”


End file.
